


child don't cry

by orphan_account



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, I just.... this is the story i would die for, Jjbek, M/M, Pacific Rim - Freeform, Pacific rim 2 au cause i'm TRASH, family stuff, not related to my previous fic AT ALL, parents/child relationship stuff going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 00:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15473130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He shuffles through images and impressions of the candidates in his mind’s eye. Redhead: fiery, but boring style. Skinny kid with bug eyes: please god no. Other faces he can only vaguely recall. There’s just one, one who didn’t speak hardly a word, excepting the solid but soft “huh!”s made with each move and advance (played by the book, but very well). There’s sharp eyes and set brow, dark, serious, and fine. He was on the shorter side, but that didn’t serve him any disadvantage.Yes, there’s just the one.





	child don't cry

When he was a child, young and stupid, he thought he was destined to carry his family’s legacy forward. That’s why he worked hard in the Academy. Kids always have big dreams. All the kids in the family have big dreams, and they’ve achieved them.

Julie, sister, kaiju toxicologist. Amelie, sister, electrical engineer for LOCCENT. Timothee, reactor technician on Gipsy. The list goes on: big family, but _he’s_ the only one who ever made it through Ranger Academy, who got scored high enough to sit in one of those Jaegers someday, punch the kaiju back to the world they belonged in, bottom of the ocean.

When he was young and stupid, he thought that was what he wanted, he thought he _wanted_ the incredible task of being everything everyone before you has been, and more. He had all these noble intentions. He actually thought he could do it. He never questioned it.

That was before.

 

 

* * *

_Before >_

* * *

 

He swaggers into the Kwoon, staff twirling in hand. He got a look at some of the lineup and there’s a couple of names he knows from his Academy. If everyone else is anything like them, this’ll be a piece of cake. Yeah, compatibility and whatnot, but he’s gonna show off as best he can. If someone can stop him from showing off, then maybe they’ll be considered. There might be 13 or 14 candidates on the list: worldwide selection for the Marshal’s only kid to make it through Academy, and with stellar numbers too.

_______________

He flops into bed after his Wifi shuts off (used his hours, and too tired to ask Chau for more) and closes his eyes. After he’s paired up, they’re gonna move him down to true Ranger’s quarters. Not even his status can evade that avenue of fate. So his nights in this temperature-controlled room upstairs with windows to the outside, looking out over the docks and ocean, with 48” holos and more-plush-than-anyone-else’s bed – these nights are coming to a close.

He shuffles through images and impressions of the candidates in his mind’s eye. Redhead: fiery, but boring. At least he remembered her. She learned his double combo thingy he invented himself and blocked it the second time, which he had to admit was pretty impressive. Skinny kid with bug eyes: please god no. Sure, he’d done well as an opponent, but only ‘cause he liked to dodge rather than attack and freaked you out with his whole chameleon-like vibe going on. Other faces, vague recall, _meh, meh, meh._ There’s just one, one who didn’t speak hardly a word, excepting the solid but soft _“huh!”_ s made with each move and advance (played by the book, but very well). There’s sharp eyes and set brow, dark, serious, and fine. He was on the shorter side, but that didn’t serve him any disadvantage.

Yes, there’s just the one.

 

* * *

 

 

When he was young and stupid, he was also headstrong and cocky. He was good and he knew it. Hadn’t figured out you weren’t worth shit on your own anywhere in the Jaeger Program, yet.  Or maybe he had, but he wasn’t willing to give up his own ideas for what someone else said. He wanted to do things _his_ style. His own way. He wanted everything how he wanted it, and people, damn them for their respect (Marshal’s son), mostly yielded.

Except his copilot, who disdained every single idea he had that went outside the lines.

It was supposed to be several months of training together and then going on a real mission. They had enough mature pilots working from the Hong Kong dome, where his parents were, where most of his siblings were, except when they’d swing by once in a blue moon. Nah, here was the Marshal’s kid Ranger, on a base without parental oversight, so he was top of the ladder when it came to their legacy surname. License to have fun, license to do what you wanted. But damnit, things would be a lot more fun if his copilot (who was, indeed, the one who had stuck with him the day of compatibility testing) wasn’t such a straight-laced _stick in the mud._

 

* * *

 

_Before >_

* * *

The first sim drop, they skewer a Raiju good in the middle of a level 5 density city, 24% under civ damage.

His copilot is as serious as when they first met in the Kwoon and doesn’t talk much, but at least he fights.  They passed drift compatibility as well, not with stellar numbers, but they passed. Surprising considering JJ couldn’t seem to make a stable connection with CERAA, the kaiju-based computer partner for simple drifting practice. Damn thing was probably broke. All the other cadets could do it easily. She was an AI, just for practice, didn’t matter in the end.

 JJ got a quick call from his parents when they heard the news. It was good to hear their voices, they sounded proud, elated even. They made a bit of a big deal for simply passing drift compatibility. JJ couldn’t complain, though. Despite everything being approved, JJ hasn’t gotten much headway in a few days with getting this new guy to crack.

Is it just ‘cause he’s been paired with _JJ Leroy_ and, well, y’know, might be a little hesitant ‘cause JJ’s the Marshal’s kid and all?

He’ll do his best to make friends with this guy.

“Numbers don’t lie, eh?” he says jovially, pulling off the headpiece with the pons connections and taking a piece of coconut candy cake stuff that Phuong had gotten him hooked on out of his pocket and chewing away. “Hey, I’m working on this cool new mod to the environment APIs, I’m thinking flight situations, we can try it when I’m done.”

He waits for an answer, bouncing on his toes as his new copilot methodically removes the sim gear and places them back where they go in the fake Connpod. Screen above details their mission success.

“Why, we don’t need flight,” is all his new partner will respond.

JJ gives him a _look_ because he’s got a lot of guts to just shoot down his ideas like that. Hey, it’s impressive in the first place for a cadet to know as much about programming as JJ does. (Growing up surrounded by experts and experts-in-training, you pick up some things.)

His copilot only waits a few seconds for a reply before turning and heading off. Likely to his bunker to get ready for Strategics Interfacing in fifteen minutes, but not like he bothers to say.

JJ watches as he goes.

He’s already frustrated with the guy and thinking he’ll have to pull his teeth to get him to loosen up a little. And he should. Not like they have any reason to be model cadets. JJ’s parents are saving the world, he doesn’t need to worry about that and neither does his copilot by extension.

But not like he wants to be paired with someone else. No, there’s something . . . _cool_ about this guy. Mysterious, if JJ didn’t know he’d been through the exact training as JJ had been and probably learned quite well to follow orders and play by the rules. But, of course there’s more to the story. From the drift, JJ knows a little bit about him (his father and mother sent him to the Academy tryouts as required by their home country and he made it, and that was it, besides letters home when he could). But not much else yet, since he doesn’t really talk. That’s frustrating too. Frustrating, but JJ watches him as he goes, when usually JJ’s only concerned with his own way.

His name is Otabek Altin, and JJ should really make sure he can pronounce it right, he thinks to himself, because it’s a fine name.

 

\------------------

 

JJ’s best friend on base has been Isabella Yang. They went through the same Academy, but after she didn’t get paired up in the first round, she changed her mind and started in international relations, or Paperwork Department as JJ calls it.

She and him and Otabek hang out sometimes, play ball or a video game JJ’s downloaded on proxy. Otabek’s becoming friendly enough and will talk to JJ when it’s not one of his schemes or projects or efforts to go behind someone’s back, or at least protocol’s back.

See, you’re supposed to use the moves you know when you train on a Jaeger, there are a hundred and one formations and you’re supposed to always be talking to LOCCENT, who’s got eyes on everything in the battlefield, and follow orders.

JJ’s always wanted to experiment. He’s got cool ideas for new attack methods, new moves, even retrofits for the Jaegers that he can’t make in the physical, but he _can_ in the virtual. Otabek won’t cooperate. Otabek won’t even steal a second dessert when no one’s looking.

“Relax, you’re with me, it doesn’t matter,” JJ has told him endlessly, in one form or the other, but still Otabek follows every friggin’ rule.

It becomes JJ’s mission to find Otabek’s weak spot. Everyone has some kinda pastime that they go to when the rigor of the cadet/Ranger life is too much. But Otabek is _too cool_ to talk about what he likes. He’s just too damn cool! JJ admires how he fights, and his focus and seriousness, in some measure, but he wants more of this, he wants more in the drift, he wants them to be cool _together,_ and they could do that by doing everything in their own style and not just reading out of the rule book! But they don’t have a style, yet, and Otabek hasn’t bought into JJ’s.

After a few weeks, one trend emerges. JJ notices a light on in Otabek’s bunker, very dim, but still there, coming through the crack in the door, after lights-out hours. Otabek’s too cool to sleep with a nightlight on, so one evening, JJ musters his moxie and charges in.

Well, makes to.

Door’s locked.

He stands there stupidly, sure he’s been heard, then sacrifices any of his pride left and meekly knocks.

To his surprise, Otabek opens.

“Whatcha doin,” JJ says.

Otabek’s in the standard sleep shirt and pants provided by administration. What you’re supposed to wear. JJ’s wearing a white tank that really isn’t supposed to be pyjamas along with pants that have a grid of crowns on them, gift from Adele (head of the surgical department at the PPDC hospital in Hong Kong; his sister as well).

“Do you want to listen,” Otabek says.

“Huh,” JJ says.

Otabek pulls him into his room (zero decorations besides the Kazakh flag, seriously, where is this guy’s human side? hiding under his bed?) and sits him on his bed where there’s a laptop, headphones and a midi controller. Headphones are put on JJ’s head and Otabek clicks some things on the laptop.

Vocal samples and smooth synths lead to a sick drop. JJ bobs his head. “This is sweet, Otabek! Man, let’s put this on in the gym tomorrow.”

Otabek doesn’t respond, but waits as JJ keeps enjoying the mix.

“That was really good,” JJ summarizes after the 2-minute sample finishes. “It’s a jam. It’s a bop. It’s a _sound_.”

“It’s not done yet.”

“I don’t care, stick this thing on your phone or something and we’ll put it on in the gym.”

“The other cadets will hear it.”

“Hell yes!”

Otabek grins, and it takes JJ aback. _Hell, he’s so cool._ Sure, JJ’s got a big name, but he knows enough about himself to say he’s not the strong silent type at all, and not really that _cool_ per se. Not that he’d admit it. The strong silent type, on the other hand, in his books, is pretty cool. Especially if you can fight like Otabek and make music like Otabek.

JJ’s struck with a sudden pang inside that he’s never felt before. It sticks with him as he jokes with Otabek and says goodnight (-- _thought you didn’t break any rules; --I’m not trying to download half a Steam library during Strategics class though am I?)._

When he gets back to his room, he’s managed to interpret this pang: it’s a nervousness, a question: does Otabek like him? Does Otabek actually like him? JJ doesn’t know. He hasn’t faced this before. He hasn’t ever been unsure or actively had to worry about someone . . . liking him. Well, some people don’t, not to say everyone does, but he can just brush it off. He _needs_ Otabek to like him, though. Be his friend. Be his copilot. He wants this to work. Maybe he should try harder.

 

_________

 

It’s been a month. They’ve been getting along. Otabek talks to him now. JJ hardly sees Isabella; she’s transferring to Hong Kong dome, soon, earmarked as a future leader.

“Numbers don’t lie,” is all Otabek said, with half a grin, when JJ made a comment, post sim one day, something like _you know, I thought I was gonna have trouble with you, but we’re a damn good team._

They fall into the rhythm that all copilot pairs should. They train, and Otabek stays out of JJ’s forays into whatever he wants to do (skip this here, do that there, mod this here), and he _definitely_ won’t join JJ in attempting new battle protocols and fighting moves, but otherwise, he’s opened up as much as JJ could expect in a short time. They can stand in line for lunch with the other cadet pairs and not talk for a bit and it isn’t awkward, so that’s good enough for JJ.

 

________

 

“I thought you would have realized by now that your stupid ideas are just that!” Otabek storms.

The powers-that-be called JJ and Otabek up into the General’s office because JJ was caught climbing up into the ConnPod of a helm in repair to do line tracing. That was it, honest! But, granted, he needed that to verify the plans and make this sweet mod for the longboard he swapped a mechanic a few stolen drinks for . . . Otabek had seen the longboard sitting in his bunker and admitted the mod was cool, an autobalance motor that would run according to a vision clip JJ put on his glasses (almost never wore ‘em, but for this, yes). 

The story came out, and now both pilots got a verbal slapping from the General, doubled miles on the morning track as punishment, and a guarded curfew for an indefinite amount of time. Means, of course, Otabek’s music-making might have to stop.  Ever since this morning, Otabek has been glares and no words to JJ. Now that they’ve got some after-supper moments to themselves, he lets it rip, down in the bunkers.

“I never join you and this is why! Why are you always screwing around? Don’t you realize what you’re here for?! Don’t you realize who your parents are?!”

“The hell you saying?!” JJ yells back.

“Your parents lead the Jaeger program and stealing someone’s skateboard and spare Jaeger parts is what you do with that?”

“I don’t have _any_ responsibility to do what everyone _thinks_ I should do!”

“Well you’re here, so _act like it,_ not like a spoilt cadet misusing privilege—”

“Oh, so this is about my _privilege?_ ” JJ _hates_ it when anyone insinuates that he’s got an unfair amount of privilege, although he does. ‘Cause what can he do about it?!

Otabek chews his lip stormily. “Everyone here is privileged to be here, Marshal’s son or not! But you have so much more to live up to, and you’re not half trying!”

“Tell that to the sim numbers! Tell that to the test scores! Tell that to my Academy exit stats!” JJ tirades.

“Just like everyone here! You’re good enough! If you’re going to be one of the best Rangers the world’s seen, you’ve got to be _more!_ ”

“Who _says_ I’m gonna be the best Ranger? Everyone thinks that! Where do they get that from?!” JJ’s spitting.

“From _you_ and all your _talk and your ego –_ “

“That’s what they _want to HEAR!_ ”

The concrete corridor shudders from the exchange.

Otabek blinks at JJ. JJ’s heart is pounding. He swipes his eyes. He better not be tearing up, now.

Truth is, since he’s been here, he’s felt the pressure from all sides to be everything he’s expected to be. Every concession made for him is just a reminder of the legacy he’s expected to shoulder the reputation to carry forward. Maybe he’s been abusing that respect. Maybe he’s not worth it. He’s good, but maybe he’s just good enough and not more.

Where is his 14-year-old Academy-fresh self, the one who proudly worked day in and day out because he was gonna change the world for the better one day, just like his parents?

“Do you even want to be here?” Otabek asks.

“Of course,” JJ says back, angrily, but not really. He’s a little ashamed of himself now. He’d rather not think about anything. “But not if you don’t want to be. I mean, my copilot.”

The worry finally comes out. JJ’d hoped that by now, they were good. But maybe he’s rocked the boat too much.

“I do,” Otabek says.

“Hah,” JJ says. “Yeah, I’m the Marshal’s kid. Of course people want to be my copilot,” he says, sarcastically. He turns to go into his bunker, but stops.

“I didn’t mean that you’re just good enough. You’re a very good fighter. You’re . . . smart, with all the modding you do. I didn’t mean it,” Otabek says.

“Really?” JJ turns back again.

“You’re a good copilot, when you’re being my copilot and not a child.”

 _My copilot_ sounds very nice to JJ for some reason he can’t name. “I’m always a child,” he says, grinning.

Otabek snorts. “Yes, I noticed by now.”

JJ wants to tell Otabek he’s cool. He’s really good, himself. He makes really good music. JJ admires him. But sometimes his cheeks heat up when he thinks about telling Otabek this, so he doesn’t.

But Otabek thinks he’s good. They’re ready, JJ thinks. Assessment day tomorrow, and then they’ll be formally allowed to transfer to Hong Kong. JJ will see mother and father again and all his siblings and maybe, maybe he can figure out, with them, how he’s going to be what he’s supposed to be.

 

 --------------

 

His parents turn the transfer request down.

The assessment wasn’t _great,_ but it wasn’t bad by any means. What, does he literally have to be the best of the best before they’ll take him?

He tries to call them, but they’re busy. They’re always busy, of course. Why talk to your son when you have a conference call with world leaders and then you’ve got to figure out how to keep aliens from wiping out the population? They managed time when he passed first drift testing to call him, so even if it was just five minutes, couldn’t they?

Why wouldn’t they want JJ there? He’s ready! They don’t know how good he and Otabek are! They’re ready to help, and they want to help!

In the end, the fate is to wait another two months for another assessment and request again.

 ------------------------

 

JJ’s still upset about the transfer request getting turned down, so he’s determined to get it off his mind by putting in extra sim time, and extra sim-modding time.

“What are you still doing?” Otabek’s voice startles him, as JJ’s fooling with the central panel in the old sim room between the two pilot docks, trying to get an indicator light working. He’s got this sweet idea for coolant ejection, see.

“Just – just working on this thing. You hate it all, I know.” JJ checks the time on his phone, blinking. It’s 1 am? _Damn._

Since they had that fight-not-really-a-fight, Otabek seems to be less critical of JJ’s illicit activities, or maybe just more willing to ignore them.

“You need to sleep.”

“I know.”

JJ pokes at a wire but gets it stuck under a nut.

“Hand me the needlenose?” he says to Otabek. Who, slowly, complies. “Promise I just gotta do this,” JJ says, and stays true to his word. Fishes the wire out, then pulls off his glove and kicks his tools hidden under the control panel.

He looks at Otabek in the dim light; JJ’s only got the backup lights behind the docks working.

“I know you’re upset that we didn’t get approved to go to Hong Kong,” Otabek says.

Dammit, JJ didn’t want him to bring that up.

He kicks the toolbox again for good measure, metal slamming against metal, and forces himself not to rip the dock headpiece apart, stalks out of the ConnPod – but Otabek catches his arm.

“They probably just want you safe,” he says.

“You can’t say that! All my other siblings are there, or based there! And I’m the only Ranger! They almost lost the Typhoon last week, you saw that! Why don’t they want me?! I’m _trying!_ ” JJ tries to pull away but Otabek still holds him there.

“I can’t console you, but you need to not be a child and keep working at training and not staying up so late working on your ideas.” Otabek says this like he is indeed lecturing a child, teasingly, though, almost.

JJ scrunches his eyes hard shut and tries to force himself to listen to the good advice.

But all that he can think of is his parents’ faces on the news, voices on the radio: the last time he saw them –

“Last time I saw them was a year and a half ago,” JJ says, and he knows he’s being such a child and he needs to be more self sufficient and stronger but he can’t help it, “I know you don’t really miss your parents but _I do!_ ”

He can only stand there and feel alone after this outburst. Alone. Isn’t that what he is? Otabek’s parents, he’s learned from the drift, were not the best. Detached, busy; Otabek is mature enough he’s dealt with it, and he can take it at face value, and he’s OK. But JJ’s not. He needs someone. As much as he wishes he wasn’t like this, deep down, he knows he _needs someone._

Otabek’s the only thing there to hug, so he does, all of a sudden, tight so hopefully he won’t cry, but he can’t talk for the effort it takes not to. Wordlessly he begs Otabek to just tolerate this; JJ needs it. Something physical, so he’s not so alone. Thankfully, Otabek holds him tight back.

Eventually, after moments pass, JJ manages, muffled into Otabek’s shoulder (Otabek is shorter and JJ must lean down, but not uncomfortably so), “Sorry.”

“For what,” Otabek sighs, like maybe there is something, but it doesn’t mean anything. His arms are wrapped around JJ, one sitting in the small of his back, the other pressed between his shoulders; JJ realizes he’s got a hand in the long part of Otabek’s undercut, combing through the hair, as he breathes in Otabek’s scent. It’s calming, for some wild and strange reason, to hold him like this.

“For nothing,” JJ says belatedly, because he must let go at some point; he looks so bluntly into Otabek’s deep brown eyes for a painfully questioning moment and then has to turn to go. Or else? Or else: he doesn’t know.

 

______________

 Here’s a funny thing.

It’s a week before their next assessment. They’re running through a last sim drop. Goes well and they disconnect. Start talking about movies or something while cleaning up, something stupid, they’re talking about Bella getting transferred, who else JJ knows from Academy days.

“Not really anyone, just the other cadets, techs and staff around here,” JJ says. It happens when you become part of the Jaeger program: you just go where they put you.

“And how about me?” Otabek questions, as they’re going through the shutdown procedure on the central console (writing it ingrained into memory), one on each side.

“Of course you,” JJ scoffs.

Otabek has paused, but goes back to punching buttons.

JJ has paused, and looks at Otabek.

The funny thing is he’s trying to figure out what he likes, exactly, so much, about Otabek. _Everything_ is not satisfactory to JJ.

Otabek finishes the sequence, screen in front blinks OK, and looks back at JJ, staring at him.

Otabek sighs like, _do I really need to do this?_

“Look,” he says, walking around the console, “I’ve been in your head. Every time we drift, you’re an open book.”

“You’re not,” JJ says as Otabek stops right in front of him.

“I know, sorry,” Otabek says, and takes his face between his hands and pulls his face down to kiss him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Otabek was still steadfast in his refusal to participate in JJ’s forays after this whole thing became clear, but they were quickly on good terms about it.

Now there was a completely new issue in JJ’s life, which was probably for the better, because it was a better issue than all his other worries.  What to do with this new relationship? Had he _always_ liked Otabek like that? Maybe not, but he’d grown to. So where to go? To Otabek’s bunker, together, to talk about it, after supper.

 

* * *

_Before >_

* * *

 

There’s no other way to say it. JJ is as virgin as they come. Strangely, after Academy days. Otabek lets on that he isn’t.

“I had a boyfriend, sort of, in year 2,” Otabek tells JJ when they cram themselves on Otabek’s bed, together, in his bunker, after hours for the first time. Their night watch has been gone for a few weeks, and earlier than he should have been. JJ pulled some strings. Otabek has at least begrudgingly thanked him for that.

Otabek’s already asked JJ if he liked this, body-to-body, together, touching. JJ hasn’t fully realized how much he’s wanted to be close to Otabek like this. It’s late September and things are cool and rainy outside of the ‘dome. The warmth Otabek radiates through his sleep shirt is the best thing JJ’s felt in a long time.

“You guys break up?” JJ asks. He’s got his legs all tangled up in Otabek’s, curled around him so he can look up at Otabek’s gorgeous face, both their heads on the pillow. Is it bad that he really, really likes Otabek’s body? That he wants to study his muscle definition more than he has in the change rooms when they’re cleaning up after a workout? To be honest, he’s snuck more than a few looks.  Otabek never did the same for JJ, or did he? 

“Yes,” Otabek says, and leaves it there, in true Otabek fashion.

“I haven’t ever done this stuff . . . with anyone,” JJ says, pushing himself up on an elbow. “Do you like me,” he asks softly as a follow up when Otabek just blinks up at him.

“More than you think,” Otabek replies.

“Good,” JJ exclaims.

Otabek laughs; JJ grins.

He only pauses slightly before leaning over Otabek to kiss him. Otabek kisses him back, reaching up to tangle his fingers in the top of JJ’s undercut (shorter than Otabek’s, but they have similar hairstyles). JJ rolls over as they keep kissing and slides a hand under Otabek’s back, pressing the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling his muscles tense and relax in turn.

Sure, JJ’ll jack off once in a while, but it’s really more of something he’s gotta do cause his body wants it than something he initiates. This is different. This warmth that concentrates inside him, as they’re touching and kissing: it’s desire that’s not simply called up by some biological clock. New and strong, and JJ’s almost hesitant. Almost.

He makes some kind of gasp into Otabek’s mouth and pulls away just a touch as Otabek’s hand rests on his ass and pushes them together. JJ’s hard in his sleep pants and it’s nearly too much stimulation already, he’s sweating already: Otabek helps him wrestle off his shirt.

Otabek just looks at him for a second: his face, quickly down his body, all the way down.

“Damn,” he rushes to say, almost like it’s an impulsive reaction, and JJ feels himself blush.

 

* * *

 

In days to follow, they saw the Otachi, watching the attack on the big screen. JJ had exulted, for some moments, in his flight-based sims. _See, Otabek? SEE!_

Otabek had smiled in spite of himself.

They had spent quality time together, every bit of it they had free. And together, they put their best into training, into drift. Sometimes JJ didn’t know if this was really possible, everything he was feeling. It happened so quickly, but it had been simmering all along, and now it bloomed, and JJ wanted more. Otabek was close now, and he wanted him closer.

Their next assessment was cleared. But the same day, JJ’s parents and other PPDC officials came on every news network and announced Operation Pitfall was launching soon. JJ spent the day nervous, because if his parents were going to go into protect mode and refute the passed assessment, and refuse transfer, he was gonna have to fly a copter over there himself.

But they passed the assessment. With golden numbers. The transfer was accepted a couple days after by JJ’s parents. Operation Pitfall was imminent, supposed to end everything, and they needed standby.

Mother and father had a lot of fish to fry, but enough time to approve the backup Rangers.

And to hear about JJ’s long list of infarctions at the Vancouver ‘dome.

For the first time in a year.

The General came as an official escort, and tried to brush over that necessary part of the summary, but Alain Leroy didn’t miss a thing, and neither did Nathalie.

The Marshal, the Marshal of the whole Jaeger program, didn’t have much time, but he had time enough to sit his son down, ask him what in the world he was _thinking_ getting into this trouble, in a tone that most certainly said what was going to happen now that this had come to light.

And JJ had enough nerve to finally, _finally_ demand, why didn’t his parents take him to the Hong Kong ‘dome when he was ready, why did they give all his other siblings the positions they wanted and kept him out of the spotlight when he was _ready?!_ Why didn’t they have time to at least tell him why he _wasn’t_ ready?

Long story short, the Marshal had a world to save, and a kid who wouldn’t behave.

“We have a lot to talk about, but you were kept back for your own good, JJ. Now it’s more serious, with this on your record,” Alain had said.

So, this all just cause he didn’t behave? Well, JJ didn’t want to anymore! This legacy, this responsibility to be the greatness he was born from: _they_ didn’t even want him, just like he suspected all along! None of this about keeping him safe and whatnot! He was _18!_ He was old enough!

But in the end, JJ had misbehaved. Seriously. Often. Never hurt anyone. But you’d get discharged from Academy for that, not to speak of the PPDC.

“And what do you know of this?” the Marshal asked Otabek.

“I knew all of it. But I don’t think he should have done any of it. Without permission,” Otabek said, sounding reticent, but sticking to his guns. JJ wouldn’t have wanted another answer. Still, he protests.

“But I would never have _got_ permission, see?! I was modding flight mechanics in the sims but no one would have supported it until the Otachi –”

“So you don’t agree with his behaviour?” Alain asked Otabek, who shook his head.

Even JJ waited with baited breath as Alain appeared to be thinking for a moment.

Then:

“You’re going back,” Marshal Alain Leroy told his son.

“You’re – sending us _back?!_ Now?!”

“Just you,” the Marshal had replied calmly.

Otabek didn’t have the same black marks on his record, and he wasn’t the Marshal’s son. So there went JJ on a helicopter, sour and hurt and confused, the fight roaring on and getting farther away.

 

* * *

_Before >_

* * *

 

 

At the moment JJ’s over the Atlantic (no flights allowed over the Pacific), the spawn from the Breach take down two Jaegers.

Operation Pitfall, supposed to end it all, now has a huge hurdle to jump without two key players.

At the moment he’s touching back down in Vancouver, Alain Leroy (most likely terminally ill from radiation poisoning in Mark Ones) walks out to a waiting crowd, in full Ranger suit, Nathalie at his side.

Operation Pitfall is greenlighted again.

And at the moment JJ’s walking back to his bunker, a melting pot of sadness and anger and not knowing anything he needs to, in the mayhem at the bottom of the ocean, the Leroy couple write their names in the history books and leave the rest to whoever can bear the load of writing it.

_________

His parents are _dead_ and it’s all over TV before any of his family calls.

They do, eventually. Just to tell him. Then he gets a secondhand invite, from Helene, the oldest in the family, who worked closely with their parents, joint with the next person up the ladder in the PPDC.

Come back, join the program – they’ll take another look at his record and see what can be done.

Stay.

_But can they really want him?_

JJ doesn’t stay.

He doesn’t want to see Otabek.

He doesn’t want to see anyone.

He has no place here.

They’re planning a memorial, of course.

He figures the President of the US probably has had more face time with JJ’s parents than he himself has, in recent years.

So why do they need him?

He was only just ready to consider that he was good enough to be great, that he and Otabek could make it, that he could live up to himself, maybe, with the support of everyone around him; and then Alain crushed his spirits so easily; and then, his parents were dead.

JJ doesn’t stay.

He goes, off the grid, and they let him.

A last concession.

 -----------

There’s free stuff everywhere if you’re not afraid of a bit of a rough life and a bit of inconsistency, JJ discovers. Outlivers live this kind of life: on the run, in pockets of wild runaways who made big hauls in abandoned kaiju/jaeger battlegrounds and traded goods for whatever. Sometimes they’d live in Kaiju skeletons they’d outfitted themselves. They’d find luxury grounds, abandoned and plentiful; sometimes get enough fake documents to live in the city, or sometimes rough it in the country.

He was planning to go back and see his siblings, in the back of his mind. Heard Bella was interim Jaeger program leader. He could maybe talk to Timothee. They’d been decently close.

Sad, happy. What to feel? He felt like shit, he felt terrible. Punishment: this was his life now. Never to step foot in a shatterdome again. Cast himself out, made the first move.

He saw the news. He kept the paper. They were heroes, now, probably the greatest in centuries and centuries to come. He was nothing. He was a pretty big deal in his circles, a smart thief who (for some peculiar reason!) knew more than your average outliver about how Jaegers and even kaiju were built. Most around these parts had heard about him. But that, compared to the empty space of who he could’ve been, if he hadn’t fucked up? Laughable, so pitiful it hurt to think about, so he didn’t. But he kept the paper clipping. Kept it, till it drowned at a pool party (another abandoned luxury house; there may have been bodies in the basement and debris all over the landscape, but they had their fun). (But it was still in his mind.)

Long-term plan was to keep taking more and more risks in the organized (criminal) parts retrievals until he made a fatal error, you know, punctured something and got engulfed in kaiju spit. That would work. Until then, he’d have fun.

Wouldn’t you know, one day a scrap of a blonde kid snatches a battery from him while he’s fighting off other treasure hunters (and doing a damn good job), so he follows, of course. Kid’s got a shack with an old barn attached, all these wires he follows into the open workshop: a tiny scrapyard looking Jaeger (if it can be called that) sits there.

Kid sneaks up and tries to conk him out with a section of piping he can barely lift. They get in a knot. He pins the kid down. But he’s more curious than angry. Lets the kid up to explain that he got a mechanical team to build the skeleton and do most of the welding, but they were eaten up by the coast guard, and he piloted the thing inland here. Been struggling since he’s a programmer primarily, but has made do. All this with a mess of chin-length hair and furious green eyes, pissed-off teen vibe down to the scuffed up leopard print shoes. Of course, JJ takes an immediate interest.

Then, of course, the police are on their tail, ‘cause those thugs he left in the 431-005 dump chute of the old Jaeger somehow got out and phoned authorities.

Just his lucky day he gets to hitch a ride in a homemade kaiju and take it for a secondhand, and literal, spin. The tiny jaeger balls up and rolls out of its dock, single pilot surrounded by an impressive holocontrol pad in a central stabilized control hub.

 -----------------------------

_EXIT YOUR DEVICE. HANDS IN THE AIR._

The policing Jaeger beams huge and angry down at him and his new blonde friend who’s screaming _it’s not a fucking DEVICE! It’s a fucking Jaeger and I made it myself!_

But this is serious, and both their hands go up.

___________________________________

 

The shared prison cell, some screaming and yelling later, is sobering enough to solidify some kind of alliance. Both get themselves into this mess. But they don’t have much time to sit before JJ’s hauled off to a private room where none other than Isabella Yang holos him.

“ _So you go by Jack now. That’s about the least clever alias I’ve heard.”_

She tells him they’ll either lock him up, or he has to come back.

Back to the program.

Back to everyone he used to know.

And whatever he chooses, they’re taking the blonde (grudgingly said his name was Yuri), because they need that kind of talent.

In the end, it’s JJ’s (wounded) pride that gets in the way.

So when they step off the helicopter and Isabella is there to greet them, and she calls JJ _JJ_ and not Jack, and Yuri stops short and has to run to catch up, eyes wide, spitting at him _you’re fucking JJ Leroy?! The fuck you were doing out – doing_ not _here?!_ : it’s according to plan, and it’s gotta be enough to hold his self-confidence together long enough he can make some apologies.

 -------------------

He does make apologies. The siblings manage to gather to see him. He sits low in his chair.

_You didn’t come to the memorial._

He knows. He’s sorry. ~~He’s a piece of shit.~~

They just want him to be what he can now. They want him to be a figurehead to the new group of cadets coming in. The PPDC is still running, but Jaegers are going to be modified towards reconstruction and regrowth. Still need pilots. He’s still a name in the Ranger community: his parents are heroes, and he’s their only child who’s followed (tried to, and gave up) in their exact footsteps.

They just want him to be motivation.

For how long is a question that isn’t appropriate to ask, yet.

Maybe they’re thinking forever, but the shatterdome is a confined space of shame and he doesn’t know how long before he suffocates. It’s a crazy kind of sad, but he’s been so distant from all of siblings, they’re no closer to him than all the people he got to know at the Vancouver ‘dome.

Still, he’s got a debt and maybe it’s time to try and pay it.

 _Yeah, of course I’ll be platoon lead. What’s the starting wage?_ he would joke, but he doesn’t.

This JJ is very different from before.

Oh, and they give him an SD with a video file Nathalie and Alain recorded him. Right before Pitfall.

He clenches it tight like a lifeline.

 ---------------------

He has an official meeting with Isabella too. Isabella who used to be his friend. They used to undertake escapades together back in Academy days, right? JJ can’t kid himself. As soon as he started on the Ranger path as a cadet and she split into leadership roles, their priorities became much different. She’s interim leader today because she developed a skill set and maturity JJ didn’t.

“I’ll do my best, Bella, I really will,” is all JJ can offer, his voice breaking on him at the end of a tense conversation where he can’t find the words to express everything tied up inside of him. He’s still angry. How can you be angry at someone and somehow, at the same time, feel like a bag of shit for exactly that reason?

“You need to, JJ. And you need to come to terms with your parents’ death,” is the conversation closer for Bella. “But no one will force you.”

Isabella is so serious in uniform now, black hair straight and posture perfect. She’s a year older than JJ, but seems seven.

“Did they give you the video?” she asks, more softly.

 

 --------------

 

So JJ wasn’t ready to come back. He wasn’t ready to think about his family again and he wasn’t ready to be around anyone he knew from before, damnit.

Strangely his saving grace is Yuri, who’s new as new can be and looking at a lot of responsibilities, if he can take it. Plucky kid, eyes might be bigger than his sleep schedule, but he tells JJ they want to start him in Team A base tech and move him up to operations as fast as possible – as well as include him in as much cadet training as will work. JJ can almost pretend it’s like the old days again, as Gipsy’s Maintenance Manager gives them a tour around the ‘dome, and Yuri’s like a squirrel in a bucket of nuts.

At the foot of Athena, Yuri’s asking about the core drives and JJ’s looking around (dome’s a busy place always, with PITs driving along pathways, techs and operations and general traffic swarming; overhead cranes, spotlamps on hoists and high angle rescue on standby for some work on Gipsy’s helm today) when he sees the last thing on the list of things he wasn’t ready for, while he’s got a hand stuffed in his jeans pocket next to the SD card. If he breaks contact, it might vaporize.

Who’s this passing by? It’s Otabek Altin.

 _He probably got a new copilot. Probably forgotten all about me. Probably moved on. Moved up._ JJ doesn’t just think these thoughts now, he’s thought them ever since he was sent away. He’s thought about Otabek ever since. He’s thought of his music, his body, his soul. Their drift. It was punishment enough, being apart, but now he has to face him again? They started falling in love (so JJ believes! or started falling in something that actually meant something), but never got to the bottom of it all. Didn’t have time. Why would Otabek hold onto it? Why would JJ hold onto it? But he has.

JJ takes a breath in and can’t seem to let it go. Otabek’s as beautiful as ever, finest face on base.

They glance, make eye contact, only because JJ can’t look away.

Everything that’s been shelved for – what is it, nearly 2 years now? – clatters onto the floor of his soul, opened again, not quite like a wound, but it might feel the same.

Otabek looks away before JJ does.

JJ watches him go.

“Hey. Hey Jack—JJ – whatever! Over here!” Yuri’s yelling, and JJ snaps back to attention, catching up to their tour.

 

 -------------------

 

JJ’s given a room, and he uploads the singular file to his Drive. He can watch it on his phone. He will. He _will._ He attends some more orientation things, has dinner, with Yuri and the cadets he’s supposed to be a role model for, or something. He’s good at smiling and talking, and the old reputation, the old respect that he’s due just ‘cause he’s someone’s son: it comes back like it was never gone, and JJ could admit he’s missed it a bit.

The grin’s wiped from his face as who approaches but Otabek.

From how the cadets greet him and he greets them back, they’re already acquainted.

“So, who’s this I get to meet?” are Otabek’s first words to JJ, referring to Yuri.

God, his voice. It’s changed a bit, not much. Deep and smooth, still serious. His face, just a bit older. He carries himself with the same confidence as ever, wearing a white T-shirt and a dogtag that identifies him as a full-on Ranger.

They’re only looking at each other as Otabek sits on one side of Yuri, JJ on the other.

“This is Yuri,” JJ answers, holding Otabek’s gaze like it’s a staring contest.

“Welcome,” Otabek says, eyes just briefly flicking down to Yuri, then back to JJ.

“He’ll be in this platoon as much as possible and part of Team A tech and operations otherwise,” JJ says.

“Great,” Otabek says.

“So what have you been doing,” JJ says.

“Being a Ranger. Copilot left for Shao. Platoon head now.”

“I see.”

Pause. The cadets are staring at them, but JJ won’t stop whatever this is, staring at Otabek.

Some stubborn moments pass. Unflinching.

“Where’s the ice cream around here?” JJ asks.

“Can you stop?” Yuri says from between them.

Otabek looks down as if he’s forgotten the kid is there.

“Oh,” he says, and gets up. “I’ll be talking to you later," he says to JJ. "We’re expected to work together.”

Before JJ can splutter out an answer, Otabek takes his tray of food and walks off.

“Work _together_?!” JJ splutters, retroactively.

“What’s weird between you two, huh?” Yuri says, shovelling his face now that he’s got elbow room. JJ’s forgotten his lunch.

Well, it makes _sense,_ since they did train as copilots – but – but – _but_ – well, JJ ran off. Without a word. And that’s no good for relationships.

He doesn’t know what he’s in for regarding this later _talk_ , but a man can hope that the damage done isn’t irreversible.

Because one look, one word, and he’s head over heels again.

 

 

* * *

_Now >_

* * *

 

 

9:30 p.m. and JJ’s hunting for ice cream. Not that he really wants ice cream, but he’s too nervous to watch the video. His phone is in his pocket. The Drive app is opened. The video remains unwatched.

Even though he’s only half-focused on finding the ice cream, he’s gotten good at this sort of search-and-find over the past two years of surviving and looting and having a good-not-great time.

He slips through a back janitor door into the back section of the Floor 1 Kitchen A. There are rows of the glass-door freezers that they sell frozen pizzas and waffles in at grocery stores. A minute of bumbling around in cupboards and drawers and he’s got a bowl and a couple of spoons out on the metal counter, overhead lights flicked on to give enough to see by.

As he’s rummaged through the freezers, someone says behind him,

“You make enough noise to wake all the platoons.”

It’s Otabek of course. JJ glances over his shoulder and glances back. Do they have his favorite flavor? Yes, they do! Maple caramel. He would’ve been chill with just maple. Bonus.

He turns and starts scooping into the bowl. Otabek watches him.

JJ refuses to say anything. He clamps his mouth shut. Only when he goes to another cabinet to look for toppings does Otabek speak. Maybe he’s had to get more talkative in these 2 years that have gone by. Or maybe JJ’s forcing him to it.

“So are you really here to be a leader for the new cadets?”

That question bites. Damn! He’s good. JJ brings chocolate sprinkles to counter and begins shaking them out.

“Sure,” JJ says.

“Your robe is horrible,” Otabek says.

JJ looks down at what he’s wearing. He made some (temporary) friends these past couple years. A fuzzy bright red robe with white maple leaves all over it: gag gift, grabbed from a tourist type shop.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” JJ says.

He’s sure it’s not just him noticing how grown up they both seem to be now. Lived long enough life’s been unkind once or twice.

“Because it’s important that we can work together,” Otabek says.

“Right,” JJ says, busily going to look in the fridges for fresh strawberries.

“There aren’t any fresh strawberries,” Otabek calls from behind him.

“Dammit!” JJ says and returns to the counter, examines his ice cream, shrugs and starts eating.

Of course, Otabek knows that he loves strawberries, something they didn’t get much at the Vancouver ‘dome.

Still knows.

“Are you going to talk to me?”  Otabek says after some stubborn moments of silent eating from JJ, with a shake of his head like he can’t believe this.

JJ slaps his bowl down on the counter with a sharp TAKK!. Sighs through his nose.

“I’m sorry I just left,” he says quickly, not managing to hold Otabek’s gaze.

“Me too,” Otabek says. “I’m sorry about Alain and Nathalie. They died well. Everyone knows that.”

“Yeah,” JJ says, bitter.

“Why did you leave?”

“You know!” JJ says. “You knew, better than anyone!”

Otabek sighs again, like JJ’s forcing him to say this, which he is, by keeping his mouth shut. “You resented them for keeping you in Vancouver. Never coming to see you. Rejecting you on the day of Pitfall based on your behavioural record.”

“Yes!” JJ yells. “It’s – I – I have a _right_ to be angry, don’t I?! And I’m here because I _should_ be and I have to be not because – not because I can make anything right. Not because I can be everything they used to want me to be. They know not to expect that anymore.”

“You could still be,” Otabek says. “In my mind. We could still be.” Then his lashes cover his eyes as he looks down: here’s this full-grown hell of a man, quiet and almost shy.

JJ didn’t expect this. He didn’t. He doesn’t know what to say. So he takes his phone out of his pocket and slaps it down on the counter. Otabek looks at it, then looks at him.

JJ takes a deep breath in. “My parents recorded a video for me. Well, left a message that got recorded by LOCCENT like everything in the ConnPod. Before they died. Watch it with me.”

Otabek nods.

JJ pushes his bowl to the middle of the counter and leans his phone against it, selects the file. Otabek hefts two barstools from an adjacent counter and places them at the other end of the counter.

The video plays as JJ settles into a seat beside Otabek.

The quality is fairly good; it’s from the front camera that captures both pilots: Alain and Nathalie veterans in their drivesuits, marching forward, environment dark and only lit by the inset lights in their helmets and the holo displays, bright trails in their suits. Must have been when they were on their way to the Breach from the drop point.

Even just this: their serious faces, intent and urgent movements, moving in sync, _alive,_ is enough that JJ’s eyes water and he has to bite his lips. He feels Otabek’s one arm wrap hesitantly around his lower back. Quickly JJ puts his hand overtop the hand that curls around his side, interlaces their fingers: got to keep himself tethered somehow.

“ _Jean-Jacques, c’est par toi_ ,” Alain says, eyes still focused on the readouts that aren’t in the frame of view of the camera.

JJ wipes his eyes and takes a steadying breath. Damn, he’s gotta hold it together.

“We didn’t want to send you away, Jean, because we were so happy your drift assessment numbers were safe this time,” Nathalie says.

“If we’d had the time we would have come to see you and see how things were going, but I know you’ll understand if you see this, that we didn’t have time to make the flight there and back with Pitfall in the works,” Alain says.

LOCCENT says something; Nathalie flips some control console switches before resuming.

“I know you probably resent this, but why didn’t you tell us about all these things you were doing you weren’t supposed to do earlier? After the General brought it up, and we found out your copilot wasn’t complicit, we really couldn’t send you in.”

“Well did you _want_ him to be?!” JJ exclaims, at the figures on the phone screen. Of course, no response.

Alain sighs. “JJ, we wanted to really sit down with you after your exit report came in from the Academy, but it was bad timing. We were happy you made it and we didn’t foresee that we would never really get a chance to talk about it.”

“You know most of your siblings did go through at least some of the Academy program,” Nathalie says. “And even though you made it, there were still signs that you would have the same problem as them.”

“There’s something in the genetics of us Leroys that make it hard for us to be drift compatible. Pons technology isn’t far enough to make the connection more stable, and we can’t do it. I went through 40 – 60 test partners before I held a drift with your mother.”

“So we were so happy, JJ, and we really were, that you held a drift with Otabek, in the first round of trials, even . . . we were expecting you to go through rounds of candidate testing for months, and we didn’t expect you to be ready to go so soon . . . “

JJ remembers the call. They called him two times at the Vancouver ‘dome: once, his birthday, and two, when he passed drift testing with Otabek.

“Wait, so that’s why all my brothers and sisters . . . I thought they just weren’t good enough . . . Why didn’t . . . “ JJ trails, but shuts his mouth because the video won’t wait.

“So that’s why we felt we had to wait until your assessment numbers were solid, and very solid, until we transferred you here . . . and why I sent you back just now, JJ,” Alain says. “I’m sorry. But raising an issue of disagreement between you and Otabek before you’re expected to be on backup for your first mission in a real Jaeger and real battle, with drift instability we know is a problem for all of us? I couldn’t risk it.”

The lump in JJ’s throat is painful by now.

“And now we might not return. It’s hard to say that, but it’s the truth. We were really screwed over by those old Mark Ones,” Nathalie says with a quirk of her lips to one side, something that could almost be funny, but isn’t.

“If you don’t see us again, I hope you’ll be back soon, with our family and with Otabek, because you’re lucky you’ve found someone you can drift with. The recent assessment numbers were very good, JJ. We’re very proud of you.”

“I know everyone wants a lot from you, darling, but you have already given us so much joy from getting to where you are,” Nathalie says, and her eyes find the camera port. “ _Est-ce la caméra_?” to Alain, who quietly confirms. She nods and looks back into the camera. “I love you so much, Jean-Jacques, and I’m sorry we didn’t have – more time.” She’s choking up.

“We’ll try to make it back,” Alain joins her. “Maybe we should have talked about this sooner, but we didn’t want you to know you had a genetic handicap. We didn’t want that to hold you back. And don’t let it.”

The video’s done. Quickly fades black with the replay button in white.

There are tears dripping down JJ’s cheeks.

“Guess that’s why I always thought CERAA was broke when I tried to drift with her,” he stutters out before his voice gives way and he breaks down, leans into Otabek, lets Otabek hold him. He presses his face into Otabek’s chest and cries, and breathes in this smell that he’s missed for too long. Everything is so terribly bad and so wonderfully good. He grips Otabek so tight he’s sure he’ll leave bruises.

Eventually he stops crying enough to just steady his breathing and know he’s made a mess of Otabek’s shirt.

“Don’t leave me Otabek don’t leave me I’m so sorry,” he says hoarsely, “I’m so sorry I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or be anymore I just need someone to help me, I can’t be by myself anymore—”

“I won’t, JJ,” Otabek says. “I won’t, alright? I missed you. I missed you all the time. I didn’t want anyone else.”

“I missed you too.”

“I knew you would.”

“You’re not a child anymore.”

“Always a child,” JJ says. This, he knows. A child: of Alain and Nathalie Leroy, who saved the world, full stop. Child: with stupid, big dreams, even if has to make them up from scratch, but now he has someone to help him.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 1 day thats why this is so terrible alexa play Mako's Theme


End file.
